Music and dance have been an integral part of my life since childhood. I grew up learning traditional West African dance, ballet, stepping, and eventually — the traditional rite of passage for most high-school girls in the South — majorette dance. At the same time, I learned to speak music in a different language through the clarinet and the flute, understanding musicality, melody, timing, and how sound carries emotion.

That foundation shaped everything. It taught me that movement is memory, culture, and identity.

As an adult, I discovered salsa and my world shifted. Taking my love for African rhythms and movement, it didn’t feel like I was learning something new — it felt like I was returning to something. Although Salsa is not my culture, I felt an ancestral pull from the music and dance. That connection became undeniable when I heard “Aguanile” by Héctor Lavoe. The Yoruba chants, the drum patterns, it felt like my soul recognized itself.

Salsa showed me that music is a conversation between worlds; Africa, the Caribbean, North and South America. Always evolving, always adapting, always returning to your roots.

My love for salsa isn’t about performance or perfection. It’s about belonging, discovery, and honoring the cultures that built this music and movement. Salsa reminded me that we can all still find expression, connection, and joy through music and dance.